


Half-Blood Prince

by Jen_814



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:20:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28263030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jen_814/pseuds/Jen_814
Summary: Severus Snape starts his first year at Hogwarts.
Comments: 2
Collections: HP Holiday Fic Exchange





	Half-Blood Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * For [felix814](https://archiveofourown.org/users/felix814/gifts).



Above everything else, Severus Snape was an excellent student. It only took him one Hogwarts Express train ride, three minutes of conversation with the Sorting Hat and six not-so-funny jokes at the welcoming feast to learn two important things: the school house competition was serious, and his half-blood status made him inferior to his Slytherin peers.

He was sitting at a long table, decked in green and silver tableware. The room could have easily fit his old school’s football pitch, and real suits of armour stood guard against the walls and outside the doors. The food (delicious) had appeared by magic, and where the ceiling should have been, there was only sky - London-born Sev had never seen stars like this before, and he had to stop himself from staring at the sight.

He looked instead to the Gryffindor table across from him, where Lily was sitting with the two boys from the train (James and… S-something). She was talking animatedly, but looked up when she sensed his gaze, and smiled. Sev grinned back, relieved.

“Who’s that?” said the stocky boy to his right, noticing the encounter.

“Lily Evans - a friend from home,” replied Sev.

“Evans?” the boy sniffed. “Sounds like a mudblood name.”

Sev laughed and smiled at the boy, and made a mental note to look up ‘Mudblood’ in the library at his first opportunity.

The stocky boy was Carrion Lestrange, and Sev learned that he would be sharing a room for the next seven years with him, Evan Rosier and Florian Mulciber. The other boys were all purebloods, and all knew each other already. They spoke about people Sev didn’t know, made jokes he didn’t understand, and referenced events to which he would not be invited. Once, that first night, Sev had brought up his mother’s family, the Prince’s - Evan and Carrion exchanged glances, while Florian snickered behind his hand. Sev didn’t speak much after that. He stayed awake for hours on that first night, listening to the sleeping sounds of his roommates through the drapes of his emerald four-poster bed, and trying hard not to think of anything at all.

\--

Sev had never considered himself an emotional person, but he found himself struck with a fervent, exhilarating and all-consuming adoration for the Hogwarts Library. He had literally never seen so many books together in one place. He hadn’t imagined it was _possible_ for so many books to be together in one place. (On reflection, the answer was probably magic.)

The library was vast and grand. The arched ceiling was set in a polished dark wood, which mirrored the floors and bookcases to a shining perfection. The books stretched up to the high, high ceiling, and spindly golden ladders could be found placed periodically among the stacks, to assist students with their pursuit of the loftier tomes. Sev had the fanciful impression that he was walking through a colossal ship, so opulent, yet so purposeful was this structure.

Sev owned exactly four books on magic. They had been given to him by his mother, and were so worn and dog-eared that he’d felt protective, and kept them in his trunk, rather than on the shelves of his dormitory. He watched a few students (older years, he thought, possibly in their last year at school) sitting at a polished table in one of the library alcoves. There were half a dozen books in front of them, some opened at different pages. To be able to read about magic, _publicly_. How wonderful.

There was a desk at the end of the lacuna to Sev’s left. He walked slowly, watching the way that the books on the towering shelves to either side of him seemed to glimmer as he passed, and he could swear that he could hear them rustling slightly. Was this his imagination? Or, more magic? He resisted the urge to drag his finger along the nearest row of books, as he moved through the passage.

“Excuse me,” said Sev to the woman at the desk, who was writing busily in a large leather-bound ledger.

She didn’t look up, or stop writing. Sev wondered if she’d heard him and considered speaking again, but felt too overawed to interrupt. He stood instead, and waited for her to acknowledge him.

Eventually, the quill went down, and Sev was fixed with a probing look.

“Yes?” she said. She was a pale woman with dark hair, a long nose and a voluminous black hat. She had an accent - french, maybe? Combined with her piercing look and frosty voice, Sev had the unpleasant feeling of being hunted by a european bird of prey.

“My name is Severus Snape. I’m here to collect my school books, under the - the low income school supplies programme.” he said quietly.

The woman’s expression warmed very slightly. She now only looked unfriendly, rather than actively hostile. She waved her wand and a sheet of paper gently glided from one of the filing cabinets behind her to her desk.

“Read and sign here. It confirms that you have picked up your school supplies, and that you will keep them in an acceptable condition until you return or purchase them. If you choose the former option, you may have them on loan until the day of your graduation or expulsion. There’s an itemised list on the back.”

The woman waved her wand again, and a small circular object no bigger than Sev’s hand floated out from the same filing cabinet and onto the floor beside the desk. Another wand wave, and the object had expanded to reveal itself to be a slightly rusty cauldron, with a pile of books, scales, clothes and potions ingredients inside.

Sev couldn’t quite keep the smile from his face. Magic was so _cool_.

He quickly read the document, briefly looked through the contents of the cauldron and signed his name. His signature glowed gold once he’d finished, then reversed to black ink.

He was just panicking about how he would get this all back to his dormitory unobtrusively, when the woman flicked her wand again. They cauldron and its contents vanished.

“You will find,” said the witch, noting Sev’s alarmed expression, “your supplies in your dormitory, excepting the cauldron which is kept in the potions storeroom between lessons.”

Sev sighed audibly, relieved. “Thank you.”

The woman nodded, and went back to her ledger. Sev noticed a tiny brass plaque on the desk. _Madam Pince_.

\--

Wizarding lessons were different than Sev had expected. At his muggle primary school, teachers would write things on the board, show a powerpoint presentation, or even an educational video - and then they’d have homework to check that they’d understood, and then exams to check they’d retained the information. Wizarding school was… _hands-on_.

Their first Potions lesson, Professor Slughorn waved his wand at the board and a recipe (or instructions? Sev hadn’t gotten the lingo down yet) appeared, which the class then had to follow. Sev had never chopped vegetables before, let alone these oddly shaped ingredients, and almost cut himself when the slippery fluxweed shot out of his hands onto the floor. He’d had no idea what ‘diced’ meant. 

Transfiguration was no better - Professor McGonagall set them the task of turning a matchstick into a needle. After giving them the incantation, she sat back and let them try for the next hour. No one managed it, but she didn’t really seem surprised. And for Astronomy - one of the subjects that Sev thought would _most_ be suited to theoretical study - they spent the entire class trying to find constellations in the sky with their telescopes.

It wouldn’t have mattered so much - Sev supposed that magic was always going to err on the practical side - but he was beginning to dread the all-too-common instruction that came at the start of class. “ _Pair up._ ”

Sev had no friends in Slytherin. If Gryffindor were sharing the same class, Sev could usually work with Lily - but for the majority of the time, Sev was relegated to partnering with the last remaining student available, or joining an existing pair as an ungainly, unwelcome third.

So it came as a surprise one Charms class, a month into their first term, when he was approached by one of his Slytherin housemates.

“I’ll work with you today.” It was one of the girls in his year - Ahn Avery. She was slight, with olive skin and black hair cut sharply in a bob. He’d seen her hanging out with the other Slytherin girls, and he was surprised that she’d think to single him out. How novel.

They were levitating feathers today - Professor Flitwick had just explained the incantation and pronunciation of the spell. The rest of the time in class was to practice the charm. They took their feathers from the large box at the front of the classroom, and went back to the table. 

“You first,” said Ahn, tilting her head to look at Sev with an inscrutable expression.

Sev concentrated. “Wingardium Leviosa!”, he said, and his feather twitched a little on the table. “Wingardium LeviOsa!”, he tried again, exaggerating the penultimate syllable. The feather shot sideways across the desk.

Interesting, he thought. The only change had been in the last pronunciation, and the speed was quite good. Possibly he’d gotten the second word right, but needed more work on the forming the first part of the spell.

“WingArdium LeviOsa!”, he said for the third time. On this attempt, his feather rose vertically in the hair, where it hovered for a few seconds before falling back to the desk. Sev felt very proud of himself.

“My turn,” said Ahn, still watching Sev closely. She raised her wand, and copied Sev’s pronunciation of the spell exactly. Her own feather rose in the air as well, if a little lower and slower than his.

Professor Flitwick approached their desk. “Oh well _done_ ,” he said. “Very good work, the both of you. Practice a few times more with the feather, try and get it as straight and fast as you can. Then afterwards, maybe try a notebook.”

The pair kept practicing. Their feathers were both leaning towards the left on rising, and Sev was getting frustrated trying to figure out why.

“I wish I knew,” he said, speaking for the first time to his partner. “What each part of the spell does. I know that the _wingardium_ part has something to do with the direction, and _leviosa_ is with movement, but there has to be more complexity. And I have no idea on the wand movement.”

This was possibly the most he’d spoken to any Slytherin at one time. He supposed it was because Ahn wasn’t sneering at him. She was, actually, looking at him with amusement.

“You’re interested in incantation theory?”, she said, with a tight, but not un-friendly smile.

Sev shrugged. “I want to know how magic works.”

Ahn sniffed. “How very muggle of you,” she said, and turned away to try to levitate her textbook.

Sev felt rebuked. He wondered if she’d share this with her friends, if it would get around the Slytherin first-years. He imagined Florian carving _muggle_ into his bedpost, or Carrion shouting it at him from across a crowded corridor - it would not be out of character for them. Sev sighed internally. He needed to learn to keep his mouth shut.

They continued with their spellwork in silence. Sev considered their conversation over, so was surprised when Ahn suddenly spoke, just before the end of class.

“You need to do something.”

“Excuse me?” said Sev, confused by the non-sequitur.

Ahn inclined her head towards the knot of Slytherins settled at tables behind them.

“You’re going to live with these people for the next seven years - you need to find a way to get along with them.”

Sev stiffened. He looked at her, surprised and slightly affronted - Ahn was not obeying the rules of normal conversation, and Sev didn’t know how to react.

“I am... handicaped.” he said after a pause.

“We’ve had half-bloods in Slytherin before, and they worked it out. You should as well.”

“But they won’t -”

“You’re not trying.” She cut in before he had finished. She didn’t sound angry, but she was looking at him with a calculated expression that Sev still didn’t understand.

The bell sounded, and Ahn stood, hoisting her bag on her shoulder.

“Henrietta’s in the infirmary today, I won’t be partnering with you in future. But as an interested party, I’d suggest… you make some alliances.”

“Alliances?”

“With your own kind.” She looked at him, her dark eyes expressionless. “You’re a Slytherin. Start acting like it.”

She walked away to join her friends, who parted for her naturally as she became one of their group heading towards the next class.

\--

If Sev’s favourite place in Hogwarts was the library, his second preference was the Black Lake. It was so enormous, Sev would have thought it was an ocean, had he never seen a map of the UK before. The water was unpredictable; sometimes calm and clear, reflecting the sky above - and sometimes rocky and murky, stained black from the ink of the giant squid. The squid made regular appearances, the tentacles lazily stretching to explore the air and the bank of the lake around it. Sev liked this squid, and had privately ( _very_ privately) named it Dustin. From the lake’s vantage point, Hogwarts looked like a pretty toy castle.

“What’s it like in Slytherin?” Lily had asked one day when they were walking around the lake, bundled up in scarves against the frosty air.

“Oh,” he said, watching his breath cloud in front of him and wondering how honest he wanted to be. “Well… you know. It’s hard not being brought up in the wizarding world.”

Lily laughed, her voice carrying in the quiet grounds. “I know what you mean,”

Sev looked up. “Yeah?”

“I had the shock of my life,” continued Lily, “playing wizard chess the other day. James wouldn’t believe me when I told him that the pieces don’t move in the muggle game. Is that -” she looked at him closely. “Is that the kind of thing that you mean?”

Sev turned away, suddenly self-conscious. When he next spoke, he chose his words carefully. “Not exactly. I - that is.” he stopped. “Lily,” he said, “does anyone dislike you, for having muggle parents?”

Lily thought for a moment, and then shook her head. “There are a few of us with one or two muggle parents. And - it doesn’t make much of a difference. We ask them about wizarding life, and they ask us about what muggles do. It’s…” she paused, searching for the word. “Respectful.”

They walked for a minute in silence.

“Not for you, then?” said Lily, keeping her eyes forward.

“No,” said Sev, blankly. “It’s… hard, Lil.” He paused, composing himself. “It can be really hard.”

Lily kept walking. “I have a friend - Mary - she’s muggleborn like me. She was talking to one of your housemates, I don’t know his name… the tall one with the dark blonde hair - who wears that gold cross?”

“Florian Mulciber.”

“Yes,” said Lily. “Florian. He was talking to Mary after Defence last week, and she wasn’t there in Herbology, which was straight after. I found her crying in the toilets - she still won’t say what he said to her.”

“He has a way with words,” Sev said dryly.

Lily stopped walking and took one of Sev’s gloved hands in hers. “I’m here for you,” she said. “Always.”

Sev felt happy, but also embarrassed and self-conscious that she was standing by a lake holding hands with a girl.

“I haven’t,” he started, casting widely for another topic, “played wizard chess yet. What’s it like?”

They resumed walking while Lily tactfully launched into an energetic re-enactment of her chess match with James - waving her arms around to emulate the Knight’s more erratic movements and adopting a deep, gruffly voice to impersonate her incalcitrant Bishop. She was a good mimic, and Sev was, as ever, cheered by her infectious good humour.

“I wrote to Tuney about it,” Lily said as she finished her story. “But she hasn’t replied yet.” She paused, looking despondent, “Mum and Dad say she misses me.”

“How are they?” asked Sev, who had fond memories of the Evans parents.

“Good! Mum got a promotion, and she finally bought that barbeque she’s been after. Dad’s over the moon about it.” she said proudly.

“That’s great,” smiled Sev.

“Have you -” said Lily, tentatively, “heard anything from your parents?”

“No,” said Sev, the impulse to smile now squashed. “I think Eileen’s still in Germany, and - I didn’t really expect Dad to write.”

“Ah,” said Lily.

“But I think she’s doing better,” said Sev determinedly, “she’s had this job for five months now, and she was making her payments up until I left home.”

“That’s really great, Sev,” said Lily genuinely.

“Yeah, it is,” he said, as they slowly made their way back to the castle. “It is.”

\--

Sev was lying on his bed, propped up with a stack of pillows with a stack of books next to him. The curtains of his four-poster were drawn, and he was reading by the light of his wand, which he’d wedged between two pillows to point up towards his book. This was an old favourite - one of his few books from home. He’d tried reading these in the common room or the library, but he got funny looks. He wasn’t sure if it was the book titles or their scruffiness, but something about their expressions made him want to exercise discretion. And this - he thought, feeling his satiny sheets and surveying the rich hangings around him - this was nice. At home, he’d read his books on magic by torchlight under his blanket at night. It still felt somehow wondrous - even at a _school for magic_ \- that it was practiced so openly, so proudly. His father, Sev considered, would definitely not have approved.

At that moment, an announcement started, the voice magically projecting in every room in Slytherin house.

“It is time,” the voice said, “to begin the house meeting.”

Sev switched his hangings and climbed out of bed, following the students to the common room. Sev gravitated to the back as the room filled and the prefects stepped out in front of the fireplace.

A boy with long, white-blonde hair stepped forwards. He’d introduced himself to the first years on Sev’s first night: one of the sixth year prefects. _Lucius Malfoy_.

“I will be leading this meeting tonight,” he drawled, “and suggest that you all listen carefully.

“Dueling club will be commencing again, to be held on Tuesday evenings at 7pm. Students from fourth year onwards are welcome, please register your attendance with Professor Flitwick. I have been asked,” he added, with a hint of sourness, “to remind all students that duelling outside of formal class or club setting is strictly prohibited.” He smirked, provoking a tittering from the crowd. It wasn’t too hard for Sev to guess that this wasn’t a rule to which Lucius gave much deference.

“We’ve been informed that some of the house-elves have found banned items in the dormitories - for the guilty, please do not embarrass the house of Slytherin by using such obvious hiding places in future. Needless to say,” another smirk, “you should dispose of these items immediately.

“It is with great sadness that I tell you that one of our most prestigious alumni Anatoly Rookwood has passed away, at the grand age of a hundred and thirteen. You’ll remember his generous charity towards Slytherin house, most recently the donation of seven racing brooms towards the house team.” Quite a few people nodded at this.

“We will now observe a moment’s silence in respect for this great man.”

The room quieted as all members bowed their heads. Sev followed suit, and lowered his gaze - thinking idly of the quidditch team, and their chances in the upcoming match. Suddenly, he felt a jolt of pain on his right leg, like he’d been stung by an insect. Immediately, his left leg smacked into his right and he lost his balance. He flailed, legs inexorably bounded together, for an excruciatingly long moment before crashing to the floor, hitting three other students and a side table holding a glass bowl of gobstones. Just as fast as it had happened, he felt his left leg release, and flop to the side.

Shaking, humiliated, Sev got to his feet, apologising to the students he’d hit and picking up the table he’d knocked over. The glass bowl had smashed, and gobstones were rolling everywhere. He looked around quickly, and saw what he had been looking for. Florian was standing a few feet away, doubled over in silent laughter alongside Evan and Carrion. They’d jinxed him - leg-locker curse, it had to be - and then removed the jinx to make it seem that Sev was, well, clumsy at best, and intentionally disruptive at worst.

“Who is that kid?” Sev heard, as he attempted to scoop up the gobstones. Lucius still had his voice-enhancing charm, and Sev heard him clearly. There was a whispered response from another student, then Lucius spoke again. “Typical,” he drawled, “Look at the mother.”

Sev grew cold. He picked up the last gobstone, and deposited it in the newly-repaired bowl.

“And now,” purred Lucius, “if we may return to our meeting.”

There were more notices and messages, but Sev didn’t hear anything. At the end of the meeting he caught Ahn’s eye, and she raised an eyebrow. He looked away, quickly. Florian was now doing an impression of Sev, falling chaotically with a comically surprised look on his face. Students around him had stopped to look, laughing. 

_Allies_ , thought Sev, making his way back to his dormitory. _No chance_.

\--

Sev was in the library, looking for a book which explained how to write an essay. He had never written one before Hogwarts, but was now required to for practically every class. Across the board, his homework came back with commendations for his content, but criticism for his choice of structure, and sometimes his form. Sev supposed gloomily that essay-writing was a staple of wizard primary schools (did they exist? He wasn’t actually sure), and was searching for something that would describe how to present an academic argument.

He wandered through the stacks, picking up any books with likely-looking titles. _Studye Skilles_ he rejected as it started with a chapter on plucking your own quill and boiling your own ink, and he put aside _Ten Top Tips to Ace Your Essays!_ on the basis that in the first instance, it suggested summoning a house-elf to write your paper for you. _The Art of the Essay_ seemed promising though, and he brought it to a nearby table to start reading.

He’d just started on the first chapter, when he heard voices from the table by the other end of the bookshelf.

“I thought tarantulas had eight eyes?”

“No, stupid, that’s just legs.”

“I thought it was eight legs _and_ eight eyes?”

“And eight mouths, and eight noses, and eight penises…”

The group of boys burst out laughing, earning a glare from the perpetually hovering Madam Pince. There were four of them, all clustered around a table, looking at a book just hidden from Sev’s view. He knew now that Sirius was the dark haired one with the buzzcut - he was very good at Astronomy, Sev seemed to remember. Remus was the quiet one who often looked sickly, and Peter the short nervous one, who never knew the answer when called upon in class. And then there was James, with his hazel skin, messy hair and his magnetic charisma. Sev had watched him in the Great Hall, holding court at the Gryffindor table. For some people, charm was effortless.

“It’s got to be here somewhere…” frowned Remus, leaning over the book.

“I don’t think it is,” said Sirius lazily, “I reckon we can get away with it.”

“You mean to tell me,” broke in James, his voice hushed but thrumming with excitement, “that there’s no school role disallowing Tarantulas as pets?”

Sev smiled inwardly and moved his focus back to his book, before he was caught eavesdropping. _Gryffindors_ , he thought.

\--

Sev thought that he had become used to the Hogwarts opulence, but nothing - _nothing_ \- could have prepared him for Christmas. The corridors were now adorned with hundreds of softly glowing balls of light, the size of Sev’s thumbnail. Similar to the fairy lights of the muggle world, but wireless - they also changed colour when touched, to Sev’s delight. Wreaths of every size and colour bedecked the doors to the classrooms, dormitories and Great Hall, where Christmas came to reign in the shape of a dozen towering fir trees, decorated with (what looked like) spangled snowballs and floating shimmering orbs in a kaleidoscope of colours. Last year, Sev had made paperchains with his Year Six class at school, and hung them in his room in Spinner’s End. The comparison to his old life could still make his head spin.

The emptying of the castle over the holiday period suited Sev perfectly. He had his dormitory to himself, and took great pleasure in sleeping with his bed curtains open, looking at the stars, enjoying the flow of air, and generally lowering his guard. With most students at home for Christmas (including all of the other Slytherin first-years), Sev felt immeasurably more relaxed. It was as if he’d been carrying a heavy cauldron for the last few months, and now that he had put it down - he felt… light. Happy. _Free_.

Christmas morning broke cold, white and beautiful. Alone in the first year dormitory, Sev woke up to see grounds covered in bright snow. He’d exchanged presents with Lily before she left for home, and now he slit into the packaging. It contained a bag of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans (Sev’s particular favourite of the wizarding confectionary) and a card, which he opened. A slip of paper fell out, which Sev caught and smoothed out.

 _To Sev: IOU one owl_.

Sev made an excited sound very unlike him, and felt a glow rising inside. He’d never had any pets before. This was _very_ kind of Lily.

Actually… it was too kind. Lily didn’t have that much money, and Sev’s gift (an enchanted homework planner) _definitely_ did not compare. He opened the card.

_Dear Sev,_

_Merry Christmas! Hope you’re having a wonderful break and are finding time to occasionally leave the library. The sweets are from me, and Mum and Dad are getting you the owl. I told them your first term hasn’t been great (hope you don’t mind) and they wanted to do something nice for you. Don’t be a berk and get awkward about it._

__

__

_We’re going to Diagon Alley just before term starts again, will get you the ugliest, fluffiest, craziest owl I can find._

__

__

_Lily_

Sev felt a prickling behind his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry - he _never_ cried - but he found that it was kindness, rather than anger or cruelty, that triggered the sensation in him. Lily and the Evans’. They were such good people.

He crossed to his wardrobe to get his dressing gown, thinking of having a long, lazy shower before breakfast. On his way, he tripped over something on the floor. It was a present, an oblong wrapped in dark blue paper with gold stars. A tiny label was attached to the gift, bearing Sev’s name.

 _Eileen_ , Sev thought, unbidden. He rejected the idea as quickly as it had arrived. Eileen was not the type to remember occasions such as Christmas, and the idea of her carefully wrapping a present was bizarre. And yet - if not her, who?

It could, of course, be a joke. A gag gift from his roommates - a biting teacup, or a dungbomb timed to go off when the present was opened. Except, Sev noticed, that it was shaped like a book. Well, there were a number of books that the Slytherin boys could send him that would be humiliating. Something about blood purity, being poor, or unpopular. It seemed unlikely that a book would physically hurt him, so after a moment’s pause, Sev tore off the wrapping paper.

It was a book. But it didn’t look like a prank - it was, well, it looked like a textbook.

 _A Beginner’s Guide to Occlumency_ by Nils Sjoberg.

Sev tentatively shook, but no explanatory paper fell out of the pages or packaging. Someone had sent him a book, on… it looked like a branch of obscure magic. Sev waited for it to suddenly turn into a cockroach, or a foul-smelling lump of coal, but it stayed implacably book-like. How peculiar.

He studied it for a little while, then shrugged and left the dormitory to shower. Whoever had given him the book would reveal themselves, he was sure - and in the meantime, he needed to think of a really great name for an owl.

\--

It was a few days after Christmas when Sev received a summons from Dumbledore. He’d been working in the library when a prefect had found him and delivered the message. Sev made his way to Dumbledore’s office, fearing the worst but nonetheless full of a desperate hope that he was mistaken.

“Mr Snape, thank you for coming,” said Dumbledore, rising from his winged chair and gesturing towards a seat in front of his desk.

“I’m afraid I have bad news for you - in relation to your mother.”

A ball of fear was writhing inside of Sev’s stomach. He felt an inappropriate urge to laugh - of course it was Eileen. Happy endings weren’t for Sev, and he had long learned to trust in the worst case scenario. How ridiculous he was, for thinking it could be anything else.

“She was arrested last night at the German National Hospital for breaking and entering, attempted theft, and,” Dumbedore coughed delicately, “grievous bodily harm.”

“You are aware, I presume,” Dumbeldore looked at Sev sadly over his half-moon spectacles. “That your mother is a euphoria addict?”

Was Sev aware. _Was Sev aware_. He thought of his childhood, when Eileen would oscillate between frenzied happiness and anguished need; with extravagant praise and physical affection with the first, and a deep, consuming despair with the second. He thought of how anything the family bought, any toys, food, furniture - were liable to be sold without notice, when the need grew too strong within her. Once Eileen’s reputation had spread through wizarding Britain, she’d taken contracts abroad instead, for months at a time - and Sev would lay in his bed at night, wondering whether she was working, strung out, in rehab, or even incarcerated. At her best, she was warm, clever and funny with her only son. At her worst, she was bitter, cruel and grasping. And Sev so rarely saw her at her best. 

Yes, Sev knew that Eileen was a euphoria addict.

Dumbledore continued, taking Sev’s lack of response for agreement.

“The most serious charge is the bodily harm - it appears he was a security guard who attempted to interrupt the burglary. He’s expected to make a full recovery, which will count in your mother’s favour.”

The old man looked at Sev with real pity in his eyes.

“But with her history, I’m afraid she’s facing at least ten years this time. The German Sorcerer's Association is pushing for maximum penalties.”

“Is she,” started Sev, speaking for the first time in a quiet, husky voice, “going to stay in Germany? Or will she be extradited?”

Dumbledore sighed. “A matter for the Ministry and Association to decide, I’m afraid.”

Sev nodded slowly. 

When Dumbledore next spoke, Sev heard it as if from a long way off.

“When Professor Slughorn returns I’ll ask him to set up a meeting with you. This must be an incredibly difficult time for you, and I hope -” he paused, looked at Sev closely, “I hope that you seek support. The Hogwarts staff are here for you, whatever you need.”

Sev stood, sensing a finality in Dumbeldore’s last words.

“Thank you, Professor,” he said. He sounded calm.

It was on the second stairway before the Slytherin dormitory that Sev first started to feel the emotions rising within him. _Control it_ , he thought to himself, walking faster, but still trying to be unobtrusive. Striding along the East Wing's third floor he felt the urge to cry, but bit it down. _You can’t do this here_ , he reprimanded himself, _only a few more minutes_. He burst through the Slytherin entrance and made a beeline for the dormitory, his breath coming faster than usual, even for his quickened pace. Sev dropped his bag on the floor, and climbed into his four-poster, closing the curtains around him so forcefully, he thought he heard one rip. There, in the dark, in the empty room - Sev broke down. He lay on his side, legs tucked into his chest, and he screamed silently for everything that he had lost.

\--

It was dark when Sev finally stopped shaking and climbed out of his bed - it had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to break down. _I will never do that again_ , he thought, an old promise. He looked out of the window onto the darkened grounds, his face set. Above everything else, Sev was an excellent student. He was intelligent, determined and he had access to a library owning thousands of books - and he was going to cure his mother.

“To work,” Sev muttered as he grabbed his cloak and bag, and headed towards the library.


End file.
